


Skin and Bone

by peterparkerpanic



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Is Sunshine, Adrien Agreste has an Eating Disorder, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Needs a Hug, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Eating Disorders, F/M, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Hurt Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marichat | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Nathalie Sancoeur Is Not Mayura, Please stay safe, avoid this fic if it will cause you any harm, however she is a pretty damn good parental figure, like seriously he is such a dick, tw: eating disorders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterparkerpanic/pseuds/peterparkerpanic
Summary: He didn't really know when it had all started, really. It was just - the way he looked at food wasn't normal.Normal people didn't feel sick every time a plate was set in front of them. They didn't push around their food, always, to make it look like they had eaten. They didn't keep a diary of how many calories they'd consumed per day, on top of nutritionists and dieticians. They didn't exercise to the point of exhaustion if they were even a few calories off their 'limit.'In that respect, he knew he wasn't normal. Something was wrong.trigger warning(s): this is a fic about eating disorders. it deals heavily with this topic. please stay safe
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Nathalie Sancoeur, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 327





	1. Hindsight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is going to be a long one. First off: mandatory 'i'm-sorry-i-haven't-been-updating-my-other-fics, writer's-block-is-such-a-bitch' message.
> 
> Secondly: This fic deals heavily with themes of self-hate and eating disorders. It is an Adrien-centric fic. I will try and warn people as best as I can, but my experience with eating disorders is limited to myself - and everybody is different. I'm sorry if I offend anybody. If you feel uncomfortable with these themes - staying safe is, and should be, always the top priority. I love you, you're strong no matter what place you're at on your journey to recovery, and you can keep going. But also, in amongst all of these themes, romance is not a stand-out. There is a time, and a place, for fluff. This fic is not one of them.
> 
> Thirdly: In this fic, the main characters are 17-18-ish. I've also messed with the timeline a bit, but you'll see that unfold in the fic itself; nothing too drastic.
> 
> And lastly: if you're still here, and you've read the entirety of this monster-note, I love you! Thank you so much for reading!

Adrien Agreste had been looking forwards to his eleventh birthday party for almost a year – since his tenth. It wasn’t in a desperate way – no, it was more like a thing to look forwards too, in amongst all of the tutoring, and the piano, and the mandarin, and the modelling.

His birthday party was his favourite part of each year, because all his family would be together – him, his father, his mother, and Chloe (who was getting a bit annoying, because she was already eleven, and liked to remind him of it every few minutes.) Normally, Chloe could come over once or twice a month, for ‘playdates’, whilst Audrey and Gabriel negotiated business, and Emilie was out on work. It was usually Andre who took care of the two troublemakers; although he’d never really seemed to mind it, cooing over Chloe (and, sometimes reluctantly, Adrien) incessantly.

But today was the day. His eleventh birthday – and thus, his eleventh birthday party.

He had woken up to an assortment of gifts in his room – all of which he opened gratefully, hugging his parents (who had caught the whole ordeal on video) in gratitude. Then he ate a breakfast ‘fit for kings’, as his mother liked to say. Both his parents had always been very cautious of their weight – and, as an extension both of their family and of the Gabriel models, Adrien’s weight, too. The breakfast was delicious, but nowhere to be found – until days like this.

Then he watched a movie with Chloe (they’d argued over which one to watch – Chloe was desperate to watch the Titanic, whilst Adrien really wanted to watch something more fun – like Avengers, or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, or something. He won.) and it was time for lunch; after which, they had a ‘dance party’ – him and Chloe and his mother, in his bedroom. His bed was pretty bouncy, after all – like it was made for this.

And then dinner came, and all four of them sat around the table once again. Gabriel, as always, sat at the head of the table – and as it was a special occasion, Adrien sat right opposite him, at the bottom, leaving Emilie and Chloe to sit in the middle, facing each other. They ate Adrien’s favourite – pizza, at the moment – and then brought out the cake.

The cake, itself, was gigantic – four tiers, or something stupid like that, considering there were only four of them. But Emilie cut generous portions – the first of which, she served Adrien.

Adrien took a sliver onto his spoon, lifting it to his mouth, when he made eye contact with his father. Gabriel had a disapproving frown on his lips; not breaking eye contact with the fork in his hand even as he refused his own slice of cake. Adrien looked from his father, to the slice of cake, back to his father.

Was it the cake he was mad about? But the nutritionist – Jennifer, he thought her name was – had worked this entire day into his schedule. He was going to do three extra hours of physical exercise for the next two days, and for the last week, he’d been eating a sliver less calories – just enough that he wouldn’t feel the loss, and he’d still be able to grow. Jennifer had said he was allowed to eat this cake. _Science_ had said he was allowed.

Gabriel’s eyes darted to Emilie, and the disapproving frown deepened as he watched her take a large bite out of her slice – however thin it was. He looked back to Adrien, eyes as hard and as cold as steel.

Slowly, Adrien lowered his fork – cake still on it – back onto the plate, and pushed it away from himself. “Sorry,” he said softly, when Emilie noticed a few bites later. “I’m just not that hungry. I’ve already had a lot to eat today.”

Emilie examined the cake, and then Adrien’s face. “Are you sure? It’s your favourite!”

Adrien nodded “Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow.”

Taking that as a satisfying answer, Emilie continued to eat her cake. Adrien looked away from his own plate, and up into the eyes of his father.

The steel had vanished – replaced, instead, with pride.

Had he done that?

* * *

A week later, and the cake had to be thrown out, for fear of it having gone off.

Adrien hadn’t had a single bite.

»»————- ♡ ————-««

Chat Noir knew very well that tonight was not his night to patrol. It was a Tuesday – which was one of the four designated days of the week that they’d declared a ‘rest day’, because who commits a major crime on a Tuesday? And both superheroes had two patrols a week – one solo, and the one together; which made three nights in total that they were watching over the citizens of Paris.

But tonight, he supposed, they got a bit of extra protection for free.

He’d been restless, tonight – his usual fencing class had been cancelled, and whilst he’d still done his mandatory hour at the gym, he felt like it wasn’t _enough._ It felt like he’d eaten more than he had burned – and what better way to exercise than to jump across Parisian rooftops at two in the morning?

He’d been at it for an hour after the insomnia had become noticeable at half past midnight, when he stopped by the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Well, to be more exact, the roof of the Dupain-Cheng bakery – where a certain balcony light revealed somebody else was still awake.

Chat liked the Dupain-Cheng bakery. The smell was nice, and the people were nicer; always offering food (that he refused) and hospitality (that he sometimes caved on.) Plus, it didn’t help that when he wasn’t his civilian self, Marinette was relaxed, easy-going, and even funny with him.

He knocked on her skylight softly, wondering if she was still awake – or if she’d fallen asleep over a textbook again, and just not turned the light off. “Princess?” He asked. “Are you still awake?”

A moment later, a very dishevelled Marinette came to the window, looking up in confusion. “Chat Noir?”

He beamed, gesturing to himself as he said, “In the flesh.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, opening the window. “Come in, you silly kitty. It’s freezing.”

It was. He knew, because you lose weight the fastest in the cold.

Chat slipped in through the window, landing softly on her bed, and then following her down the ladder and to the real bedroom section of her room. Marinette made a beeline for her desk chair, which was strewn with baby pink slivers of fabric (more pink? She wasn’t really in need of it.) Adrien didn’t mind, walking over to the chaise and lying down comfortably, relishing in the exhaustion of his muscles.

“Why are you out?” Marinette asked. “It’s not your night to patrol.”

“How do you know my nights to patrol, Princess? Keeping tabs on me?”

Her cheeks flushed softly, and she looked down to her sewing machine. “My best friend runs the Ladyblog, Chat. I think I know a lot more than the average civilian about Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Chat nodded his head, softly. “Touché.”

“Hey, you never answered. Why are you out? Weren’t you out yesterday?”

Yes, yesterday was joint patrol – over the years, both he and Ladybug had learnt that there were _many_ negative emotions on a Monday evening. But today… “I just felt as though I needed some fresh air.” Half truth.

Marinette seemed to accept it, though, spinning softly in her chair. “Hey, are you hungry? We have a bunch of macarons that nobody bought because they’re coconut flavoured – which is insane, because coconut is delicious – so do you want some?”

Before Chat could respond, Marinette had jumped out of her chair and was halfway down to the kitchen. He sat up slightly, but with the action came a strange wave of nausea – like when people with an iron deficiency stand too fast. That was… strange. Was he iron deficient? Usually the suit managed to control stuff like that.

Moments late and Marinette was back, tray in hand, as promised, filled with snow-white macarons. She seemed excited – almost tripping as she moved towards him. “Try one, try one,” she said, excited and slightly breathless.

Guilt and something else pulled at his stomach. “Can’t,” he chuckled, placing a hand over his stomach. “I am so full, because I just stopped at the bakery on the other side of Paris and had every delicacy they have to offer. I’m sorry, Princess. But maybe I can take a couple for the journey…?”

Once again, Marinette seemed to let this excuse pass, either not seeing through it, or deciding not to challenge it. “Alright,” she said softly, moving back to her desk. “I’ll pack a few up for you. Don’t forget to try them, though! You don’t want to miss out.”

Chat nodded, and a bitter taste filled his mouth. He didn’t like lying much. It was a cheater’s sport.

“So, Chat,” Marinette said, fiddling with a bag to wrap half a dozen macarons in. “Why did you decide to drop in?”

Chat shrugged. “To check in on my Princess, I suppose! Why are you awake at such an hour?”

“Why are you?” She challenged.

“Hey. I asked first.”

Shaking her head, Marinette tied the bag together – somehow making it look like an item from some picturesque picnic in a movie. She placed it to the side of her desk, patting it softly, before looking back over at Adrien. “I was working on a commission. A set of bridesmaids dresses. I guess I lost track of time – they’re due in three days, but the last two just sent over their measurements, so I was cutting out fabric and… God, it’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it.”

Yeah, he supposed it was; scrap fabric everywhere. At least she’d had an explanation for it.

“Well, how about you, Mister Chat Noir? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not really, no,” he admitted. “I was feeling restless.”

Marinette turned to properly face him. “Anything I should be concerned about?”

“Nothing at all, Princess. I was just… thinking.”

“About what?”

Chat shrugged – the movement awkward due to his head being bent over the back of the chaise. “Life, maybe? But a run always clears my head, and a little exercise never hurt anyone, right?”

Marinette’s eyebrows drew together. “You’re Chat Noir. If anything, you should be leading a workout regime for the entirety of France. You run around Paris on an almost-daily basis. I don’t think you need to worry about exercise.”

Those words set a spark of something off in his head. Annoyance, maybe? Marinette didn’t know him-

“But if you wanted to run, I respect that. Just don’t run yourself dry; never know when an akuma will attack.”

His feelings eased, and he melted into the chaise a little more, flexing his feet, which were now starting to regain their feeling (god, the soles had been hellish for the last ten minutes.) “You’re a good person, Marinette. You know that, right?”

He didn’t have to turn his head to know her cheeks had turned several shades darker. “What-“ she squeaked out- “what do you mean?”

“I mean, taking in stray cats like this in the middle of the night. Asking me about my day. Feeding me. Not everybody would do this, Princess.”

“Well, you’re a superhero. Anybody would do this for you.”

He let his head lazily swing to face hers, smirking softly. “And yet I get the feeling that’s not why _you_ do it.”

Marinette bowed her head. “Whatever, you silly cat. What is this, embarrass Marinette day?”

“Embarrass!” He guffawed. “I thought I was flattering you!”

“Yeah, well,” she sighed. “I guess you and I have very different ideas about…” she cut off her words to let out an almighty yawn.

Chat laughed softly. “Tired?”

“Mightily,” she responded.

“Well then, I should go.” He lifted his head slowly, the nausea returning in the back of his throat. “See you around, princess.”

“Don’t forget the macarons!” She stood, grabbing the package and bringing it over to him. He stood to meet her; arms outstretched as his feet touched the floor.

But, a second later, it was as if they hadn’t touched the floor at all. They gave out, and his eyes drifted shut – the last thing he saw being the spinning image of Marinette, reaching out to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn this really be a whump fic and it ain't even that sad yet


	2. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emilie disappears / Chat wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy y'all, all aboard the angst train
> 
> also I'll (hopefully) be writing a lot more now that i'm in isolation (thank you to my country for finally taking the proper damn precautions) and have nothing to do!! (just kidding... i should probably work.)

At aged twelve, his mother disappeared. At the time, it hadn’t really been a major thing – Emilie was known for leaving the house at all odd hours, for days at a time – for work, or because her and Gabriel had argued, and she needed some space. But a day soon turned into a week, and soon Gabriel was filing a missing person’s report.

It was strange, really. Her diary had been so full of plans, and she’d been totally normal, and then one day it had all just… stopped.

After a while (a month, maybe? Two?) they’d had a funeral. It was strange, lowering a casket into a hole in the ground knowing it was empty, and yet having to place flowers on the tombstone and pretend throwing dirt _meant_ something. Maybe, if he was older, it would mean something. Right now, it didn’t.

On the day of the funeral, it had rained. It was a little ironic that it had, really – considering it was March, and whilst sometimes it rained in March, this year it had been all sun; until today. It was like somebody living in the clouds could sense the sombre mood deep in his heart, and decided that day just really wasn’t fit for sun.

The rain lasted two more days – and so did Adrien’s self-inflicted isolation.

He’d come home, ripped off his jacket, thrown his dress shoes across his room, and plummeted face first into a pillow he wasn’t sure whether to punch or to cry into. His head felt fuzzy. His knees felt weak. His heart felt… empty.

But Emilie wasn’t dead. No, she was just missing. _That_ was what he was feeling – guilt. Guilt for burying an empty casket, and throwing away the memory of his mother who was most definitely alive, somewhere. Guilt because in placing her flowers, and letting the proceedings go on, he had allowed himself to feel sadness for a loss that hadn’t occurred.

He’d stayed like that, in bed, for as long as the rain lasted. It was a comforting sound, against his windows, as he drifted in and out of consciousness – lugging himself out of bed for bathroom breaks, and water, sometimes. He’d feel a pang in his stomach, but then he’d drink, and think of his mother, and it would disappear – replaced with a different pain.

And then, when the rain stopped, his father knocked on his door.

“Adrien,” he remembered Gabriel calling, voice hoarse from lack of use. “Son, open the door.”

Adrien put all of his strength into rolling onto his side, to look at the door. His vision was slightly blurred, but he made out the door handle, jiggling slightly. Had he done that? Had he locked the door?

“Adrien,” Gabriel tried again. “Listen… I’m sorry. But you need to come out. You need… we need to survive this.”

His chapped lips opened to respond, but no words came out of his throat. His energy, sapped, had disappeared with the rain. It wasn’t only his heart that felt empty.

“Adrien,” the voice was louder, now. “Adrien? Are you awake?”

This time, he didn’t even try to respond.

“I’m… I’ll break this door down, Adrien. You… you can’t leave me, too. I can’t lose the both of you.”

An arrow shot through his chest. Lose the both of them? But his mother… she wasn’t gone. And he wasn’t dying. He wasn’t being lost, too.

His eyes began to drift shut. “I’m calling the police, Adrien. They’ll bring a battering ram. We’ll… we’ll knock your door down, okay? It’s going to be alright.”

It felt as if there were lead in his bloodstream, weighing him to the floor. He hadn’t the heart to force it out. He just felt so tired.

He must’ve drifted off, because the next thing he knew, he was awake again, except there was an IV drip in his arm – the kind you’d see in movies – and a nurse at his bedside, tending to a tray of medications and equipment that wasn’t there before. He blinked with heavy eyelids.

The nurse turned to him. “Oh, you’re awake. Would you like me to call your father?”

Adrien found himself shaking his head. “No, it’s alright. What happened?”

The nurse paused her fiddling, turning to look at him. “You were severely dehydrated, and malnourished, when we found you. We wanted to take you to the hospital – but since you’re such a public figure, your father decided it would be safer if we tended to you privately, and in your own home.”

He nodded in understanding, and the nurse returned to what she was doing. “You should rest,” she advised. “We’ve got everything under control.”

Although his eyes shut obediently, his mind had begun to whir with ideas. If he could last (all he needed was an IV) two days with nothing – maybe three glasses of water – then how long could he last with no food? How long could he last if he restricted it – eating at most, a meal’s worth of food a day?

What if he stopped all-together?

»»————- ♡ ————-««

“Chat? Chat? Hey, are you waking up? Chat!”

Adrien was… disoriented.

“Chat? Oh my god, thank you.” There was a pressure on his arm, and another on his shoulder. “Thank you…”

His eyes were open, but the image they were receiving was half-blurred, and dim. Blue, and pink, and black. A face, hovering over him. “Chat?” It said. “Chat?”

He groaned slightly, feeling as if all the strength had been zapped out of him. He wanted to roll over and be sick – he wanted to pass out right there and then.

The recognition of where he was hit him very suddenly, and he blinked to clear his vision. Surely enough, it was Marinette hanging over him, her hair framing her face and the light hitting her in such a way that it created a sort of halo around her.

“Princess?” He mumbled, throat dry and uncomfortable. She seemed to collapse at that, at his mere utterance of words, onto his chest, which she clung onto for dear life.

“Chat, oh my god. I was so worried… you said you were fine…”

His heart was beating erratically in his chest – he hoped she couldn’t hear it. His mind was fighting desperately to make sense of the entire situation. He had come here because he hadn’t slept, and he had needed exercise. She had offered him macarons.

“And you were out for like twenty minutes… I thought you’d have, like, brain damage or something – you’re not supposed to be passed out for more than 2 minutes…”

He’d refused. They were coconut flavoured. She’d yawned. He’d taken it as a cue to leave.

“And I couldn’t call an ambulance, because you’re a _superhero_ and my parents are asleep downstairs and you might detransform and… you were breathing, but I wasn’t sure, because it was slow.”

She’d stood, then he’d stood – and he’d fallen. Knocked his head?

“Chat?” Marinette lifted herself, and the loss of warmth sent a chill down his spine. “Say something? Anything?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

She frowned slightly – her lips downturned, from what he could see through his haze of vision. “I don’t think you are. Are you – do you have food poisoning or something?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he repeated, pushing himself up to a sitting position – which required maximum effort from both of his arms, which were strangely unwilling to properly cooperate with him. “Really, I am.”

“Do you have some sort of iron deficiency? No, but then the suit would heal it… it has to be really severe, right?”

“Nothing is wrong, Princess. I must’ve hit my head on the floor or something.”

“No,” Marinette insisted. “I caught you before your head touched the ground, and you were out cold. Chat… is everything okay at home?”

He flinched, a little too hard, and Marinette’s eyebrows drew together in pity. “Oh, Chat…” she said, reaching out a hand to place on his shoulder.

He swatted it away, pushing again to make himself stand up – this time with the support of the chaise. “Nothing is wrong,” he said. “I… I fell. It happens.”

“No, Chat. Please – we don’t have to talk about it – just stay…”

He was shaking his head before he even processed her words. “I have to go,” he mumbled – and then, louder, “I have to go.”

“No – please, Chat, just stay for a _second-“_ hands reached out to grab his arm, and he shrugged Marinette off with ease, beginning to walk towards the ladder for her bed.

He didn’t feel dizzy. No, as it was, he felt kind of _light._ A little bit like he was made of air. That was… that was good, right?

There was a buzzing in his head, as if he were about to get a migraine. He needed to go. Marinette… Marinette had seen him pass out. From what? Not eating? Nobody could know he wasn’t eating.

He needed to _leave._

“Chat, please.” The weakness in her tone was what made Adrien turn around – to see his Princess standing, arms wrapped around herself, tears trailing down her porcelain cheeks. She looked fragile, and part of him wanted to stay and protect her.

“Don’t cry.” He said softly, reaching out, taking a step so he could reach her face, wipe away a salty tear that was soon replaced with another. “Please, Mari. Don’t cry. I’m alright, see?”

She sniffled softly, the tears not ceasing. “Why are you lying to me?” She asked, voice cracking halfway and dropping into a whisper so delicate that even he almost missed it.

For that, he didn’t have an answer – so he climbed out of her room, and sailed off into the blackness of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh darn it chat face ur feelings


	3. Disruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathalie appears / There's an akuma attack, with some consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, how are you?? I'm good - this chapter took a while to write, which was literally just me being scared to write it, before reading my plans and realizing this was one of the ones with a scene (or two) I'd seen very clearly from the beginning. So, here it is! I hope you enjoy!

Two weeks after the funeral, Nathalie Sancoeur entered his life as a constant. She’d shown up before – she and Emilie used to have monthly tea-meetings; they were college friends that kept in touch. Adrien had never been invited to these meetings – but he very clearly remembered that once a month, at 11.a.m, there would be a knock at their front door – and Nathalie would come in, wait for a while, and then leave with his mother, all afternoon.

In that sense, the knock on the door came two hours early on the day that Nathalie arrived. And instead of Emilie answering the door, it was Gabriel himself. Adrien had never asked what Nathalie did for a living – he knew from titbits his mother had shared with him that she was generally an organiser – but on that day, Nathalie entered the Agreste household with a suitcase and a stone-cold glare; and she never left again.

Surprisingly, it was an easy adjustment to make in Adrien’s life. Nathalie became, quite quickly, the only person he ever saw around the house. Le Gorille was there, of course – but he barely spoke, and he showed up after Adrien had eaten breakfast every day. He lived somewhere else, and he had a life somewhere else; Nathalie, it seemed, was in for the long haul.

Nathalie had also taken an interest in watching Adrien play piano. Adrien wasn’t one to brag, but with constant lessons since almost birth, and an hour of practice every day, he knew he could be considered somewhat of a child prodigy. Nathalie seemed to enjoy sitting in his room and listening to him practice – getting on with work, or whatever it was that she did on her iPad, with the music as a background noise. His thirteenth birthday came and went – and on the day, whilst his father got him a gold fountain pen with his name inscribed into the side, Nathalie had bought him a watch.

He was wearing it on that day.

It had started normally – a photoshoot to promote his father’s new line, which lasted all morning, and then a lunch of gourmet sandwiches (which Adrien picked apart; he ate the filling of some, but bread was calories, and calories were bad) before he was sent up to his room to get on with his studies and practice the piano.

Adrien had done work for a few hours, and then sat at the piano. When the first notes of one of his pieces filled the air, Nathalie walked in. She used the second set of doors; the ones behind him – and he didn’t even bother looking as she took a seat, continuing his piece. As always with practice, he had to stop and start several times; but after playing the piece flawlessly twice, he paused, picking up his book to flick to the next piece.

“Adrien,” Nathalie asked from behind him. He paused, fingers slowing as the page he needed appeared in his hands.

“Yes?” He asked without turning to face her.

“Do you always not finish your food?”

Adrien felt something akin to dread sliver down his throat and into the pit of his stomach. “What…” he choked. “What do you mean?”

Shuffling behind him let him know that Nathalie had stood up, but there wasn’t the familiar clicking of her heels moving closer. “Do you always leave food on your plate, or has it been a recent adjustment?” She asked again.

“I… I wasn’t hungry,” the words came out like a lie; disjointed, slick with Adrien’s worry.

“Should I speak to your dietician?” Nathalie asked. “We can work out a way to get you enough calories and not leave you full.”

Adrien shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Please don’t talk to the dietician.”

He could almost hear the frown in Nathalie’s voice when she spoke. “Then what is it, Adrien? You have to eat. You’re in a crucial stage of development.”

Adrien scoffed at that. Crucial stage? His legs and arms were spindly, and yet his face was so full of baby fat. He needed to lose weight. He needed to make his father proud. “It’s fine, Nathalie.”

“No, it isn’t.” Her heels click-clacked as she came to stand by the piano. Adrien looked at the keys, a hand tracing idly over their ivory surface. “Is it the eating part that’s a problem? Do you not like eating?”

Adrien wanted so badly to shake his head – to deny everything – but his willpower had drained from his body. He could tell her he felt sick – but then Claude, the chef, would be fired (and Claude was the sweetest person on his father’s entire staff.) So he just sat, fingers moving up and down the piano keys, tracing a ghost piece.

Nathalie nodded as if she understood, even though he hadn’t spoken. “Very well,” she said, voice returning cold and monotone although Adrien hadn’t registered it had shifted away from that. “Continue your practice, Adrien.”

He looked at the book, and positioned his fingers, and seconds later, the music was flowing freely through the room. It masked the clicking of Nathalie’s heels until he could no longer see her through his peripherals. However, it did not mask the quiet opening and shutting of his bedroom door, and Nathalie’s echoing footsteps through the hallway, to the rest of the mansion.

Nathalie didn’t ever come back to watch him play piano.

»»————- ♡ ————-««

The akuma alert came just when Adrien was getting into bed, producing a groan from both him and his kwami, who was very prepared to rest. He’d yelled ‘Claws Out!’ almost as he was jumping out of the window, rushing to meet his lady. He’d been tossing and turning all evening – and at half past eleven, he’d decided to just get up and play video games (this, of course, came back to bite him in the ass when it was suddenly 2, and he was exhausted, and needed energy he just didn’t have. He was dizzy – and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the lack of sleep.)

His mind was on Marinette. It was always on Marinette.

He got there before Ladybug, to see an akuma that called themselves ‘Babysitter’ (funny enough, it was a parent that couldn’t go to sleep thanks to their newly born baby crying – and was now sending everyone to sleep by touching them. The name didn’t really make sense; Hawkmoth must be _really_ tired.) He’d been evading her touch for about five minutes when Ladybug showed up.

“Good morning, My Lady!” He said, the grin and the cheeriness coming to him so easily in her presence, he almost felt as if it were real. A bout of dizziness hit him, causing his vision to gain some black spots for a couple of seconds. “Nice night for a _stroll-er_ , isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes in true Ladybug fashion, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and dropping into a fighting stance. “I’m tired, _chaton,”_ she said, the familiar warmth lining her pet-name. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he said, extending his baton and avoiding a touch from the akuma. “The akuma is in the hairpin.”

Twenty minutes later, and they’d defeated the akuma – but woken half of Paris in the process. Somewhere along the way, the akuma had decided that if she wasn’t going to get any sleep, ‘neither was Paris!’ and so had begun making as much noise as humanely possible. Now they had a small gathering – much like the one they normally collected during a day attack – as Ladybug purified the akuma.

“Ladybug!” Alya called. “Chat Noir! Care for an interview!”

Ladybug shook her head. “It’s late,” she begun, “and the people of Paris need their sleep. That includes Chat Noir and I.”

She turned away, walking a few steps. Chat followed, fighting the sand in his head that seemed to thump with every step.

“Aww, come on, My Lady – couldn’t we spare a few words, just this once? Neither of us used our power, so we’re at no risk of timing out… and she did get up just for us…”

Ladybug frowned, turning to him. Almost unwillingly, her eyes darted over his figure – quick and critical; just like his father. He held back an involuntary shiver as her lips downturned slightly, and she reached for his shoulders.

Usually, he loved any physical contact – _especially_ with Ladybug – but right now, the touch felt like insects were crawling under his skin, stemming from her hands. “You look pale, Chat,” she commented, and he was hit with such a sudden image of Marinette, concerned because he’d passed out mere hours ago, that if Ladybug wasn’t holding him, he feared he might topple over. “How about we go get some food, eh? Hang out?”

“What?” He asked, pulling back slightly. “Why would you want to go for food with me _now?_ All of Paris is closed – and you’ve never wanted to before.”

“I just-“ she looked him over again, and something in him wanted to lash out at her with his claws and stop her from looking. From looking, and seeming so _disappointed._ Was his body really that disgusting?

“Come on, Chat,” she tried again, taking a step towards him and outstretching a palm. “You look thin. We can go and eat something, or-“

“What is it with everyone telling me to eat recently!” He exploded, pulling himself farther back and retracting his hands so they were drawn into his chest, away from her. “Everybody has been calling me thin, and sickly, and asking if I’m okay when I haven’t done anything wrong? I’m fine, Ladybug. In fact, tell all of Paris. I am fine!” He called, circling and looking to the rooftops, as if it would project his voice even louder. He turned back to Ladybug, unable to remove the glare even though he could barely see her, because his vision was turning blue and purple and grey. “I will eat whenever the hell I want to. If I don’t want to eat, you can’t make me eat!” He yelled. In the haze, he saw her take a step back, and realized that he’d been slowly edging towards her, and practically spitting.

He’d expected the fiery anger in his veins to quell his bouts of nausea – but instead, it was like the adrenaline increased it. There was nothing in his stomach, but he felt like he was about to blow chunks. “Chat…” Ladybug began, cautiously.

“No!” He yelled again, taking a step back this time. His head turned – looking for an escape route, to some rooftop – but instead he was met with the shocked faces of many civilians, and more than a few cameras, and phones.

Shit. _Shit, shit, shit, shit._

Marinette.

He extended the baton, jumping to some roof, and with the will of a thousand men, he forced himself to run all the way back home, where he collapsed.

Plagg dropped the transformation, whizzing around to Adrien’s side. “That was hard, kid,” Plagg said. “I can’t keep giving you energy. Do you want some cheese, or something?”

Adrien managed to shake his head, pulling himself up and grabbing for the water on his nightstand, which he drunk copiously, until he could convince his brain that it was enough of an energy source. He dragged himself off of his bed, and onto his desk, where he powered up his computer.

The Ladyblog stared back at him. He forgot it was the last browser he was looking at. But he refreshed it – and surely enough, a video of that night showed up. Exactly what he’d been looking for – what he’d dreaded, but knew was eventually going to happen.

He scrolled further down, meaning to see the comments – but the caption, “Chat Noir EXPLODES at Ladybug! Trouble in Paradise??” caught his attention. As well as the 40,000 views the video already had.

After that, he couldn’t even bring himself to read the comments. He powered down his computer, and crawled back into bed.

He felt like crying, but it seemed there wasn’t enough energy in him for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Firstly, I love kudos and comments (although it may take me forever to respond, I read them all!!) so don't forget to leave them!!
> 
> Secondly, come and pester me on tumblr, I'm @marichat-lovesquare
> 
> Thirdly, there are a couple things about this fic I've noticed addressed in the comments that I'm not really outlining, but basically, how far do you think the 'disapproval' from his father, and the 'disappointment' from Ladybug is real, and how much do you think is Adrien's imagination? It' be really interesting to hear your take!!
> 
> And thank you so much for reading!!!!


	4. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien meets two of the most important people in his life / Rumours arise, about his civilian self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning(s): descriptions of vomiting, bulimia

Adrien Agreste befriended Marinette in the rain, and Ladybug in the sun. He remembered it so clearly – such an influential day in his life. It was the day he started school.

As he begun every day, Nathalie had prepared him a smoothie – he’d watched her do it, and knew all in all it had barely any calories, and yet made him feel as if he were eating enough. It was their compromise – her way to get him to eat breakfast, when he usually felt like rolling out of bed, having a sip of water, and waiting as long as he physically could to eat. He’d taken the smoothie, and ran from the house, trying to beat both Nathalie and the Gorilla to school, so he could get in without them stopping him.

The walk – rather, the run – was short, but left him feeling breathless. Just like the day before, he made it to the steps of the school before they arrived. Once he walked in, he was safe; the scandal of physically pulling him out of a school building was one _Gabriel_ couldn’t afford to go through. So he walked in.

He didn’t really have any expectations when he entered school for the first time; sure, he’d consumed endless media about what it was like to be a teenager in high school, but from what he’d read, it was mostly inaccurate. Chloe, of course, was there as well – which brought him comfort, but also slight unease. Chloe had always been his friend, but from what he was beginning to learn, her version of _friendship_ wasn’t accurate, either.

He never expected to be shunned within the first ten minutes.

Chloe had introduced him to everybody, and then placed gum on a girl’s seat – Marinette’s, he now knew – and had laughed about it, as if it were funny. The girl herself had come, and had all but yelled at Adrien, when he tried to apologise, and when he tried to explain. With every angry word she let slip, it felt like a pressure in his head, and in his stomach – until he left the classroom.

The bathroom wasn’t hard to find. When he got there, the smoothie came up first. It hurt his throat, and the acid tasted sour, but he continued heaving until his guts were empty and he could barely breathe. In his head, the incident played, over and over – who was he to think he could do this? His father was right – _Chloe_ was right. He wasn’t suited for normal people, or for school. He wasn’t a good person. Maybe he should just go home.

Stoneheart interrupted that plan, forcing him to jump into battle and ignore the flashbacks in his head. They worked so well together – him and Ladybug – and the moment she stood atop the Eiffel Tower, to speak directly to whatever terrorist the two of them were facing, Adrien knew she held his heart in her delicate hands.

Ladybug, from that day on, was the girl that he befriended in the shine. Whenever he was with her, he felt warm. Stomach pangs were easy to ignore when they were couple with butterflies and a pounding in his chest that brought heat crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. He wasn’t good with expressing himself, but they soon fell into a routine – he flirted, and she laughed, pretending to push him away. She didn’t like him in that way, and that was okay. He still felt warm with her.

Then, on that day, he’d returned to class and made a friend of Nino. He’d seen that Chloe was just that sort of person – and that they way she treated Adrien was actually better than most. Nino had felt like a saviour; a person he could sit with at lunch, and in any classes they had together.

Nino had given him one piece of advice that day; make up with Marinette.

And so, he did. Marinette became the girl that he befriended in the rain. It wasn’t that he didn’t like rain – he somewhat liked the feel of the droplet son his skin, the clarity they brought, the smell of it on grass, the taste on his tongue. He liked Marinette, too. His first friend. He liked making her smile – her laugh was clear, and joyful, and brought him much of the same happiness that rain did.

He’d returned home, and his father had permitted him to stay. And then he’d given Nathalie the empty bottle, and she’d smiled, and congratulated him – and he couldn’t tell her that he hadn’t eaten it, not really, because she was so happy.

He liked seeing the people around him happy.

»»————- ♡ ————-««

“You look like shit,” Nino greeted the next morning.

“I feel like it,” Adrien joked back.

The two met where they always did – outside the school steps. The air wasn’t warm, but wasn’t cold enough to be harsh, either. Adrien was wrapped up in the scarf his father had cotton for him, hands curled inside his pockets.

“Ouch, man,” Nino’s face scrunched sympathetically. “Anything I can help with?”

Adrien shakes his head truthfully. “I just didn’t get much sleep,” he explained. “I’ll be okay.”

With a nod, Nino began walking up the stairs, falling into his routine of telling Adrien about something strange his younger brother had done the other night. Adrien often liked to listen to the stories – they made him remember there was happiness in family, even if he didn’t feel it right now – but today, his brain felt like fog.

The Ladyblog article. Ladybug’s face, as he left her there. Marinette, as he left her too. Memories – all things he wanted to forget.

Nino was interrupted by a group of reporters rushing towards Adrien. Usually school was no-man’s-land in terms of the press, but the trashy tabloids posted every morning at eight, which meant if there was some scoop involving either him or his father’s company, it wasn’t uncommon for an ambush.

“Adrien!” They called, halting the two boys where they were. Adrien almost dreaded turning around. “Adrien, have you read the papers this morning?”

He went over what he’d been taught about this kind of situation. Be careful what you say – usually, don’t say anything. Is there a clear exit to a place they can’t follow him to? Take it.

“Adrien,” another reporter yelled. “Is it true?”

Nino, the ever caring friend that he was, placed an arm around Adrien’s shoulders, encouraging him to keep walking, up the stairs and into the safety of the schools. Already, they’d drawn a crowd that wasn’t just reporters; students, too, gaped at the spectacle.

“Adrien, care to comment on the rumours that you have an eating disorder?”

Those words – heard by chance, over the many other questions being yelled his way – brought a pain back in him that he hadn’t felt in years. He’d experienced parts of it when in Marinette’s bedroom, and lesser parts when Ladybug confronted him.

But this… he was going to be sick.

Nino helped him navigate into the school building, shutting the reporters out even as they continued to yell through the doors. Gods, wasn’t this child harassment or something? Adrien could barely mumble out an excuse to Nino before he traced the familiar path to the bathrooms.

He barely had time to lock himself in a stall before he was heaving over the basin. Nothing but bile and air came up, and tears began tracking down his cheeks. It felt like he’d been found out – like he’d had some dirty secret, and the public was finally catching wind of it, and now wanted to beat him down for it.

He felt so alone. In that tiny stall, on that dirty floor, coughing and gasping for air and trying to silence the sobs that shook him. Something was wrong with him. He wasn’t right.

His father would be so angry.

At that, the sobs increased, and he had to stop being sick, if only for the sake of placing a palm over his mouth. He grabbed a piece of tissue, and wiped his face as best he could.

He’d pull himself together. Splash some water on his face, straighten out his clothes, and return to class, where he would spend the day being perfectly normal. Not suspicious. Not like there was anything wrong with it.

And, when Nino asked, “is it true?”, he’d scrounge up a smile and a shake of his head, ignoring the flaring feeling in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit - Jan 2021. hi, to everybody who happens to be reading this!! as you can tell, it hasn't updated in a while. I'm sorry for this - but there's still hope, because I've got the entire outline written out just waiting for me to write it - so I'm still hoping that I'll have a good day where inspiration hits, and get out the rest of this. honestly, it's a difficult fic to try and write, considering the intricacies of eating disorders, and everybody's different experiences with ed's. I'm trying my best, though - and I just wanted to thank you all for the support on this fic. it means the world :))
> 
> stay safe, everybody. I love you.


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